This Writing Life

Thursday, August 31, 2006

Eating a Subsidiary Sandwich

August 31, 2006I was swapping e-mails with author Joe Moore yesterday. He and Lynn Sholes co-write novels featuring Satellite News Network reporter Cotten Stone. Cotten also happens to be the daughter of a fallen angel. I don't know that provides her with any powers, but it makes her sort of pivotal to preventing Satan from screwing up the world. Their first novel together, The Grail Conspiracy was published last year by Midnight Ink/Llewellyn Worldwide. Their latest, The Last Secret, has just hit bookshelves. (The Grail Conspiracy, by the way, is a very good novel and I'm looking forward to reading The Last Secret).

Anyway, I recently received an e-newsletter from Joe and Lynn promoting their latest, and on it they commented that they were international bestsellers. This was news to me. And I tend to treat all authors who claim their books are bestsellers with a certain skepticism, because there seem to be more "bestselling" authors than there are spots on bestseller lists. But I knew that The Grail Conspiracy had sold an awful lot of foreign rights, so I asked Joe. And as it turns out, The Grail Conspiracy had hit #9 on the Poland bestseller list and #26 (I think) on the Netherlands bestseller list.

I thought this might be a good time to talk just a little bit about subsidiary rights. Disclaimer: I know only a little about it. I know absolutely nothing--ABSOLUTELY NOTHING--about Joe and Lynn's contracts with Midnight Ink. So I'm going to talk just a tiny bit about sub rights and anybody reading who knows more, share. Just, I beg you, don't extrapolate what I say here to be entirely about my contracts, so don't post and tell me what a shitty contract I had or I should get a better agent or my publisher ripped me off. I'm just talking in general here.

Sub rights and secondary rights are that grab bag of things like foreign sales, TV and movie rights, audio book rights, radio, play, e-book, etc. Typically when you sign a contract it starts out with English language rights, probably worldwide, and it'll give you a certain percentage of royalties for a specific amount of books sold, and the royalties increase as the books sold goes higher. I'm told, but don't know for a fact, that some bestselling authors have elevator clauses in them that provide bonuses if their book hits a certain level on The New York Times Bestsellers List, and it's not even unheard of for publishers to give bonuses to authors whose books get picked up for movie deals.

Secondary and sub rights are a sort of bouncing ball in book contracts. They're there for the taking. Publishers typically want to hold as many of these as they can. Agents typically also want to hold as many of these as they can, especially if they have relationships with foreign agents and TV and movie producers and agents. The reason for this is simple. Money. If the publisher holds on to these rights, they get a big chunk of the money from these deals. Let's say, for instance, foreign language translations. They may get a 50% split with the author. That is to say, your publisher held those rights, they sell them to Russia. Vodka Press, LLC buys Russian language rights for $10,000 (US). Your publisher gets $5,000 and the author (you) gets $5000. Maybe.

The maybe comes about from the various agents involved and bookkeeping and accounting practices. I commented to my wife, and confirmed this with my agent, that foreign language rights accounting can resemble the movie industry's in terms of figuring out how much money you're actually going to get. Here's why. My Publisher, Inc, for instance, sold Russian language rights to Vodka Press, LLC for $10,000 U.S. But in order to do that, they used a Russian literary agent, who gets 20%. So, depending on My Publisher, Inc's accounting and business structure, the money coming to My Publisher, Inc is probably $8,000 (US). Now, either that 50/50 split comes out of the $10,000 or it comes out of the $8,000, depending on how My Publisher, Inc. runs their business. And depending on what you agreed with your agent, 15% may or may not come out of the $4000 or $5000 you eventually receive (hold on to that thought for a minute). So out of that $10,000 (US) Russian-language deal, you the author could get as little as $3400, depending on how the deal was structured and how the businesses are run.

Now, it's possible My Publisher, Inc. has a hotshot language rights person on staff with relationships with all these foreign publishers, so there's no foreign agent involved. In which case the $10,000 gets directly split. It's also possible your agent won't take a cut. In which case you get $5000. Right? (Let's not get into taxation and Social Security in this post except to say $3400 isn't going to carry you very far once the various gov't agencies get their hands in your pocket).

Here's the part where I told you to hold that thought for a minute. Because when you signed your contract, you received an advance for the English language rights, the first rights you sold. Let's make our life easier and say that you received an advance of $5000.

So, your book's not out yet, the first royalty check doesn't come until the end of March in the next year, and your publisher just got $10,000 (or $8000) for the foreign sale of your book. Do they immediately cut you a check and send it to you or your agent? No. Why? Because YOU owe THEM money.

REPEAT FOR EMPHASIS: YOU OWE YOUR PUBLISHER MONEY.

They, after all, have paid you an advance against royalties. The publisher has not made any money on your book up until that foreign language sale. So they take their half of the foreign language sale and put it toward their expenses for the production of the book. And they take YOUR half of the foreign language sale and put it toward the ADVANCE.

Now, in this hypothetical situation, assuming $10,000 for Russian sales with no foreign agent involved, your advance has been paid off and your publisher is happy because they've gotten $5000 to help defray the cost of actually publishing and marketing your book. They've got overhead too--not just paper and cover art and catalogues and printings and layout, but office space and utilities and wages and martinis.

You, on the other hand, seemingly have no more money in your pocket than you did when you started out. Your agent took 15% off the $5000 and you paid your taxes on it and you're left with damned near nothing, which you're wasting on marketing, instead of on a new transmission for your 15-year-old SUV.

Except:As soon as you sell ONE copy, you're into royalties.

So a foreign sale can get more royalties into your pocket faster, because it offsets the cost of your advance.

Now, just for the record, Joe Moore told me that Midnight Ink sold foreign language rights to The Grail Conspiracy to 19 different countries in less than one year. The Last Secret has already been sold to 8, and their next novel, not due out until next year, Indigo Ruby, has already sold to one foreign country.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out that even if Joe and Lynn's books aren't amazing sellers in the U.S., Midnight Ink (assuming their deal provides at least a 50/50 split with the publisher) is doing better than breaking even on their books because of all these foreign language sales. And although I don't actually know anything about their deals, my guess would be that Joe and Lynn are starting to see real money come in because their advances have been covered by all the foreign language deals. This is an enormous hypothetical, but if they received a $5000 advance on their book and sold each of those 19 foreign language rights for $2000 (US), the book would have earned $38,000 before even going to press. If they had a 50/50 split, their cut was $19,000, and you subtract the $5000 advance from that and POTENTIALLY IN THIS TOTALLY FICTIOUS MATHEMATICAL MODEL, they could receive a check for $14,000. Which, as the expression goes, is better than a stick in the eye. And with their books hitting bestseller lists in at least two countries, they may be surpassing their foreign language advances as well, earning royalties on their books in other countries.

As I said earlier, theses sub rights are a bit of a bouncing ball. There are industry standards on splits, if there are splits. Movie and TV rights may be more like 20/80, with the 80% going to the author. That is, assuming those rights were held on to by the publisher. In my case, my agent kept 100% of movie and TV rights.

Publishing houses have different policies about these rights, and so do agents. More than anything else in a book contract, these are what get negotiated and fought over. Had I been doing it myself, the publisher would have gotten damn near everything. Was I completely happy with my contract? No. I doubt any author is ever COMPLETELY happy with their contract. But it was reasonably fair. I watched Irene negotiate and fight for various rights and wording and you live with what you get.

But just a word of caution to writers negotiating your own contracts, particularly if you're negotiating with a small press that doesn't have subsidiary rights agents. There is a lot of potential money floating around these sub rights, and you probably shouldn't be just giving them away without knowing what it is you're doing.

Wednesday, August 30, 2006

If I'm not crazy...

August 30, 2006...I will be soon.

I completed, almost, the rewrite of ANGELS FALLING yesterday. I'll be going over it again, reading it out loud, looking for some miscellaneous things like too much backstory, repetitive words, etc. I also think I want to get into a couple of the characters' heads a bit more. Oh, and although the length is okay, I'm open to the notion of an additional 5000 words, but we'll see. Can I do that by adding a few scenes or chapters, or will I end up padding things?

Which is not really the point of today's entry. The point is, when I wrote the first version, I had a certain ending. I wasn't 100% sure I wanted it to end that way, so when I put the manuscript aside for a few months, I specifically told myself to think about it, hoping my subconscious would do some work on the question while I went about my life.

So yesterday I changed the ending. Printed it out. Stared at it, then went back to the computer and changed it back. Then I had the two printouts there on my desk and I stared at them, then I shook my head and went upstairs to make lunch.

When I got back to the office I threw out the older version and made the changes for the newest ending, then I wrote the epilogue and called it done.

I have more doubts about this project than usual. The reasons for that are I think because I'm getting published, my standards have gone up. The first book in the series, THE DEVIL'S PITCHFORK, will be out shortly. I'm quite pleased with it. The second book in the series, THE SERPENT'S KISS, will be out in the fall of 2007, and I'm signficantly more pleased about SERPENT. My agent, who often compliments the author, but doesn't necessarily always compliment the author's work (it's complicated), told me she thought THE SERPENT'S KISS was almost perfect. I happen to agree, especially with the "almost" part. I think it's significantly better than THE DEVIL'S PITCHFORK, which is what I was aiming at.

Which may be my problem with ANGELS FALLING. I want it to be better than THE SERPENT'S KISS. And that's hard. KISS damn near wrote itself. The novel's structure solved so many problems in terms of rising action and conflict that it was a breeze to write and everything works. It's NOT perfect. No book is, but I'm very, very pleased with KISS.

ANGELS FALLING is another issue. It's good. It might even be very good. As it is as of today, if readers like the first two they'll like this one. It does what I think a Derek Stillwater novel should do. It's fast-paced, action-filled and entertaining.

But I want it to be better. So back I go for at least one more rewrite while I've still got time.

11:15. Home again. Check on boys. Check e-mail and phone messages. Write check, prep two packages to send out, one to my website maven, the other to my PR guy at Midnight Ink. Change clothes.

11:30. Boys and I drive to Chicago Brothers Pizza for their pizza buffet and have lunch. Stop at post office and mail packages. I hate going to the PO at lunchtime--it's mobbed.

12:15. Home. The boys take Frodo for a walk. I descend again into the office. Check e-mail. Make a couple phone calls. Sit down and crank out two short news articles. One is about the acquisition of Corus Pharma by Gilead Sciences; the other is about a multi-million dollar financing round by a biotech company. Send off, invoice. Check to see if mail came. It did. There's a check in there. Yeah.

2:00-5:00. Working on Chapter 7 of business report, dubbed LSO (Lab Strategic Outlook). All about the Medicaid market for clinical laboratory services. After three hours, I am totally fed up with Medicaid statistics and the byzantine and massive CMS website, the Urban Institute website and numerous reports by various other think tanks and government agencies. I should pat myself on the back for lasting that long. Three hours to get about 2 pages done, most of it statistical data.

5:00-6:00. Alternate between working on first chapter of a new novel and talking to Leanne, who got to ranting and raving about work. The first three pages of the printed out manuscript are now covered with blue felt-tip ink as I totally rework the lead. (Or lede, I suppose).

6:00--Watch the news while reading the newspaper. It's raining outside--hard. Set the table, start browning the meat for dinner. We're having mostaciolli. (Or mostaccioli).

6:45-7:15. Eat dinner.

7:15--7:45. Wash dishes and pick up kitchen.

7:45-8:30. Bring up box of mailings for marketing campaign and stamp return address on them.

8:30-9:00. Read THE DEVIL'S PITCHFORK with pen in hand to look for any changes I might want to make in case we go to a second printing.

Monday, August 28, 2006

Sleight of Hand

August 26, 2006Over on Rob Gregory Brown's blog, he has a delightful essay about writer as magician. That is to say, what we do looks easy, but requires tons and tons of practice and work in the background to make it work.

Amen, brother.

I had a lengthy essay on this about a year ago and even dragged my brother Pete into the fray to post on the issue from a musician and composer's perspective.

The question I had was this: Why does everybody who ever writes something think they're going to automatically be a bestseller? Does every person who picks up a guitar automatically assume they're good enough to go pro? Does every person who plays softball or touch football think they're good enough to play in the majors?

It doesn't seem like it. Yet it's very, very common for people who've never published a word to think, Hey, I wrote this novel, I'm sure it's going to get published and become a bestseller.

And maybe it will.

And maybe you'll be sitting in your living room watching "Friends" re-runs and a runaway bus will bounce up on your lawn, crash through your front window and kill you.

After all, it doesn't happen often, but it DOES happen. Why not to you?

Hell, I used to think I'd get that big hit and make a fortune. Maybe I still will. But at least on my logical, rational days (rather than on my wish fullfillment days), I believe that I'm going to have to build an audience book by book and that this can be an arduous, unreliable thing that may never happen.

It's sure not as much fun as believing your next book is the winning lottery ticket.

And since writers live in a fantasy world half the time anyway, I suppose it's just an extension of that overactive imagination.

Friday, August 25, 2006

That New Book Smell

August 25, 2006I went out for my bike ride yesterday and when I got back, UPS had dropped off a package. This isn't quite as unusual as it is for some people. I'm always getting books and things from publishers, and sometimes they're delivered via UPS or FedEx or whatever the U.S. Post Office's version of fast delivery is these days. It wasn't a huge package so when I noted that it was from my publisher, Midnight Ink, I was sort of puzzled. It didn't seem big enough to be my "author copies."

It did, in fact, contain two copies of THE DEVIL'S PITCHFORK. One is for me to read through and check for any possible changes and/or corrections to be made should we sell all of our first printing and go into a second printing or reprinting. This is a thought that makes my heart pump a little harder, actually. The other copy is, well, to stick on the shelf. Which I did, after first writing #1 and my name and the date inside it.

Sean, my youngest, picked up the book, looked at it, then held it to his nose and inhaled. "Got that new book smell, doesn't it?" I said. He nodded and went back to what he was doing (which is putting address labels on envelopes for me).

This is my third published book. Getting regularly published somewhere--in magazines, etc., is so commonplace for me now that I'm not much thrilled when I see my name on a magazine article or newspaper piece or whatever. (I still find checks pretty thrilling). But the book thing is still pretty exciting.

But it's complicated. I know when I was just beginning I thought holding a copy of your own book in your hand would be akin to the first time you have sex or winning the lottery and to my mind it doesn't actually come close. (Well, I'll let you know if I ever win the lottery).

Getting a novel published comes weighted with an awful lot of baggage. First of all, you're carrying the history of all your previous efforts--and failures--so you know what went into that book. For me that's a hell of a heavy weight to lift.

Second, I doubt if there's an aspiring novelist out there that hasn't at some time had those fantasies of 6 and 7-figure advances, movie sales and being on Good Morning, America or Oprah. (You haven't? Did your nose just grow? Come on, tell the truth.) So, naturally, the more typically modest advance and the relative lack of interest from the film industry and media (and your family, and readers, and...) can seem like a bit of a let-down.

Third, for me anyway, comes an odd burden of responsibility. I need to earn back this advance, so the book needs to sell a certain minimum copies. (Actually, the sale of French language rights probably already earned my advance back on PITCHFORK, so I feel like I'm on firm ground in this respect). Still, I've got a 4-book contract and I want each book to get better and sell better and make my agent and publisher happy so I can continue to do this thing I love.

Ah, the fourth, right there. Each book can be a bit of a coin into the slot machine, can't it? At one point in my life I thought I had an unlimited number of coins for this particular slot machine. All I needed was my creativity and my energy and I could keep writing novel manuscripts and trying to get them published. And now that I'm getting published, I realize that with the nature of the publishing industry, you either grow or die. You may find yourself selling 50,000 copies, but if your next book and your next don't go to 55,000 or 60,000, not all publishers will continue to publish you. They've got coins they want to drop in the slots, too.

(Is that startling to you? I was on a panel at Magna a couple years ago with novelist Robert Greer, and he writes mysteries and medical thrillers. He commented that the mysteries sold about 15,000 copies and the medical thrillers about 35,000, but that Warner, the publisher of the medical thrillers, really expected the numbers to go from 35,000 to 50,000 to 80,000 and up, and if they didn't, they were likely to drop you. Welcome to reality.)

There are a host of other things. Emotions are complicated and probably never more complicated than when they are at their strongest and when they revolve around things that are the most important to you. Don't mistake me. I'm not whining or complaining. Having a book published is a fabulous thing. I'm delighted with my publisher and the process of turning THE DEVIL'S PITCHFORK from thought to manuscript to book has pretty much been a smooth, pleasant journey. But I'm increasingly aware that there's no THERE there, no point at which I go, "Yup, that was it, I nailed it, I'm a success."

I have a sign up in my office that says: Success is a journey, not a destination.

That New Book Smell

August 25, 2006I went out for my bike ride yesterday and when I got back, UPS had dropped off a package. This isn't quite as unusual as it is for some people. I'm always getting books and things from publishers, and sometimes they're delivered via UPS or FedEx or whatever the U.S. Post Office's version of fast delivery is these days. It wasn't a huge package so when I noted that it was from my publisher, Midnight Ink, I was sort of puzzled. It didn't seem big enough to be my "author copies."

It did, in fact, contain two copies of THE DEVIL'S PITCHFORK. One is for me to read through and check for any possible changes and/or corrections to be made should we sell all of our first printing and go into a second printing or reprinting. This is a thought that makes my heart pump a little harder, actually. The other copy is, well, to stick on the shelf. Which I did, after first writing #1 and my name and the date inside it.

Sean, my youngest, picked up the book, looked at it, then held it to his nose and inhaled. "Got that new book smell, doesn't it?" I said. He nodded and went back to what he was doing (which is putting address labels on envelopes for me).

This is my third published book. Getting regularly published somewhere--in magazines, etc., is so commonplace for me now that I'm not much thrilled when I see my name on a magazine article or newspaper piece or whatever. (I still find checks pretty thrilling). But the book thing is still pretty exciting.

But it's complicated. I know when I was just beginning I thought holding a copy of your own book in your hand would be akin to the first time you have sex or winning the lottery and to my mind it doesn't actually come close. (Well, I'll let you know if I ever win the lottery).

Getting a novel published comes weighted with an awful lot of baggage. First of all, you're carrying the history of all your previous efforts--and failures--so you know what went into that book. For me that's a hell of a heavy weight to lift.

Second, I doubt if there's an aspiring novelist out there that hasn't at some time had those fantasies of 6 and 7-figure advances, movie sales and being on Good Morning, America or Oprah. (You haven't? Did your nose just grow? Come on, tell the truth.) So, naturally, the more typically modest advance and the relative lack of interest from the film industry and media (and your family, and readers, and...) can seem like a bit of a let-down.

Third, for me anyway, comes an odd burden of responsibility. I need to earn back this advance, so the book needs to sell a certain minimum copies. (Actually, the sale of French language rights probably already earned my advance back on PITCHFORK, so I feel like I'm on firm ground in this respect). Still, I've got a 4-book contract and I want each book to get better and sell better and make my agent and publisher happy so I can continue to do this thing I love.

Ah, the fourth, right there. Each book can be a bit of a coin into the slot machine, can't it? At one point in my life I thought I had an unlimited number of coins for this particular slot machine. All I needed was my creativity and my energy and I could keep writing novel manuscripts and trying to get them published. And now that I'm getting published, I realize that with the nature of the publishing industry, you either grow or die. You may find yourself selling 50,000 copies, but if your next book and your next don't go to 55,000 or 60,000, not all publishers will continue to publish you. They've got coins they want to drop in the slots, too.

(Is that startling to you? I was on a panel at Magna a couple years ago with novelist Robert Greer, and he writes mysteries and medical thrillers. He commented that the mysteries sold about 15,000 copies and the medical thrillers about 35,000, but that Warner, the publisher of the medical thrillers, really expected the numbers to go from 35,000 to 50,000 to 80,000 and up, and if they didn't, they were likely to drop you. Welcome to reality.)

There are a host of other things. Emotions are complicated and probably never more complicated than when they are at their strongest and when they revolve around things that are the most important to you. Don't mistake me. I'm not whining or complaining. Having a book published is a fabulous thing. I'm delighted with my publisher and the process of turning THE DEVIL'S PITCHFORK from thought to manuscript to book has pretty much been a smooth, pleasant journey. But I'm increasingly aware that there's no THERE there, no point at which I go, "Yup, that was it, I nailed it, I'm a success."

I have a sign up in my office that says: Success is a journey, not a destination.

Thursday, August 24, 2006

French Kiss

August 24, 2006Yesterday was kind of exciting. I got word that THE DEVIL'S PITCHFORK's French language rights have been picked up by Ada Editor's Inc in Quebec. So sometime in the future, LA FOURCHE DU DIABLE will be hitting bookshelves as well.

Today Canada, France and the Riviera--tomorrow the world!

For those of you just popping in here, I encourage you to visit my website and sign up for my contacts list. By signing up you'll automatically be entered in a contest--more details on the site--and I will send you a PDF of my short story, "11 Minutes." Tell all your friends.

What might you win? You might win a $100 gift certificate to the bookseller of your choice. Or you might win a signed copy of THE DEVIL'S PITCHFORK.

You'll also receive my occasional--and I do mean OCCASIONAL--e-newsletter, which you can opt out of if it annoys you. Hey, am I being fair or what?

Wednesday, August 23, 2006

Writing Advice: Write What You--

August 23, 2006The classic writing advice is: Write what you know.

I've never really thought this was great advice. One reason I think it's iffy advice is sometimes we're not all that interested in what we know; it's so common to us it's boring, even if it's something relatively interesting to other people. The second reason is that sometimes we don't write well about what we know because we know it too well, so we skip things we think everybody knows, but don't.

Better advice is: Write what you're interested in.

This brings some intellectual curiosity and even (hopefully) passion to the enterprise. If you can get excited about it, hopefully the readers can, too. The Internet makes research a breeze, although I encourage anybody writing a novel who has a question about something to make a phone call or pay a visit, because that kind of research is different than what you do via books and the Internet.

There's another bit of writing advice I've been pondering lately: Write what you fear.

Here's my line of thinking. I'm reading "Skinny Dip" by Carl Hiaasen and there's a character dying of cancer in it. My father died of cancer a couple years ago. My mother has Alzheimer's, as does my mother-in-law. As I was walking away from reading a scene about this woman (to let the dog out), I thought in my morbid way: wonder which way I'll go--cancer or Alzheimer's.

I'm currently, as you know, writing a series about a character who is an expert on biological and chemical terrorism. I'm definitely interested in the subject. Derek Stillwater, who is a troubleshooter for Homeland Security, has a PhD and learned much of what he knows on the subject while he was in Army Special Forces. He also spent time working for the UN as a weapons inspector and has been on loan to the CIA off and on. What's a little different about Derek is he really fears biological and chemical weapons agents. He has panic attacks prior to entering a potential scene. He's a bit neurotic about the whole thing, as well as superstitious. In THE DEVIL'S PITCHFORK it is mentioned that a psychiatrist had told him, "You've spent your entire career looking through the gates of hell. I'd be surprised if you weren't a bit crazy. Take a vacation, have a Margarita, get laid."

Having been raised by a pair of hypochondriacs, it's probably not a big surprise that I have some morbid fascination with disease. I also worked at a hospital for 18 year, as well as spending some time in infectious disease research. At the recent book event featuring Stephen King, JK Rowling and John Irving, somebody asked Stephen King who he read these days that scared him. He sort of avoided the subject, noting that as you age what scares you changes. Absolutely right, Stephen, and he ought to know. The older we get the more boring our fears, probably. No ghosts and goblins and monsters under my bed. Instead I fear cancer and disease and losing my mind and depression and disability and dying alone and not being able to make my bills and my marriage dissolving and what might happen to my kids and...

I've started working on a possible proposal for a medical thriller. I'm still finishing up the third Derek Stillwater novel, ANGELS FALLING (almost done!) and I've been thinking about the fourth, which is due in about 15 months, but the pressure to play with this one idea... and as I've started it I've realized just how personal it is, how it involves Alzheimer's patients...

Well, Doctor, should I take the chair or the couch?

Of course, what you fear may not be all that obvious to you. It may, in fact, appear in your books whether you want them to or not. JK Rowling created the characters of the Dementors, dark-robed creatures that feed on your feelings, leaving you with your worst emotions and thoughts of the most horrible thing that happened in your life, able to give you a "Dementor's kiss," which will literally suck out your soul. I don't know if Jo Rowling consciously was describing a physical manifestation of clinical depression, but she nailed it. Writing novels can, for better or worse, be akin to visiting a shrink.

Last writing advice: Take a vacation, have a Margarita, get laid.

You may not get published, but at least you'll be relaxed and with a smile on your face.

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

Wondering and wandering...

August 22, 2006I was walking Frodo last night, just a medium loop through the neighborhood, and my brain was spinning at some of the things I noticed:

--there's a house on the corner for sale. It's been "abandoned" for some time and only recently went up for sale. I wonder what happened to the people who used to live there. They went south for the winter and never came back...

--same house has had a lot of activity since the FOR SALE sign went up. Last night there was a couple standing outside with their realtor. The realtor was a tall, leggy blonde in tight jeans and without offending anybody, she was HOT. And I thought: Is being that good looking a liability or advantage in the real estate business? Can you use your looks to close the deal, or do you get the men saying, "I don't know, let's go out and look at a few more houses... " again and again.

--passed a white panel van parked on the street. We've got a lot of people who run their own businesses in our subdivision--painters, plumbers, carpenters, etc. I noticed a fishing rod and reed laying across the dashboard and I wondered: Is that wishful thinking? Does this guy go to lunch at the nearest lake or stream and cast a few while eating his PB&J? Or does he just wish he could?

--two dead squished frogs on the road. I remember last year counting over 40 along that stretch of Somerville. Has this year's "Rain of Frogs" begun?

Sunday, August 20, 2006

Snakes On Brokeback Mountain

August 20, 2006Samuel L. Jackson was talking to the media to promote his latest movie, "Snakes On A Plane," and at some point, partly in frustration, I expect, he said, "Look, we're not talking 'Snakes On Brokeback Mountain.' We're talking 'Snakes On A Plane.'"

This resonated strongly with me, especially after I stopped laughing. Because what Samuel L. Jackson was saying was, "We're not talking about a movie likely to win the Academy Awards or go down in film history as a great work of art. It's a horror movie!"

And one of the reasons it resonated with me is that sometimes critics don't get it. One of my key criteria when I reviewed books was: "Did the author accomplish what they were trying to accomplish?"

So if you're writing an adventure novel and it's not exciting, but it sure has plenty of imagery and symbolism and seems "literary," I can't help but feel the author may have missed the point. Example: "The Crown of Columbus," by Louise Erdrich and her ex-husband whose name I forget. Michael Something. (That's sad, as he's now dead, committed suicide, I believe). Anyway, this story is about a historian (I think) who may have clues to where a "crown" of some sort is hidden that Christopher Columbus brought with him while exploring the New World. In point of fact, the crown is the the crown of thorns that Christ wore when he was crucified. This novel had all the makings of "The Da Vinci Code" only it was written about 15 years earlier, and although the writing was without a doubt better than Dan Brown's, it was not, to my mind, a better book. Why? Because the authors had a different agenda than writing an adventure novel. They were writing a mainstream "literary" novel and as a result, the novel seemed schizophrenic and didn't--to my mind--succeed as either thing. It sure as hell wasn't "thrilling" or "exciting" or an "adventure."

I don't want to get too much into the art versus commerce argument here, although I actually have pretty strong opinions on the subject. But I do want to make a point. The process is almost entirely identifical.

Let me say that again: The process of creating art and creating a commercial book (movie, etc) is almost completely identical.

The process that Samuel L. Jackson and the director and the writer and all the other actors in "Snakes On A Plane" took is almost entirely identical to the process they would take if they had been making "Ghandi" or "Brokeback Mountain" or "Casablanca."

Yes, it's possible people will walk their way through their work. Yes, it's possible they'll do it entirely for money.

My point here is when Samuel L. and company decided to make "Snakes On A Plane" they decided they wanted a film that was scary and fun and thrilling and suspenseful and funny and designed to give laughs and shivers and screams, etc.

When everybody concerned went about making "Brokeback Mountain," they weren't looking to make scary and fun and thrilling and suspenseful; they were intent on raising another set of emotions and moving people to think and to feel a certain thing.

The PROCESS is essentially the same. The INTENTION is different.

And for the record, I've never seen "Brokeback Mountain," because it's not my type of movie, ie., a romance (the gay theme doesn't bother me). I love romantic comedies, but straight romances, like "The Horse Whisperer" leave me cold. For that matter, I have no intention of seeing "Snakes On A Plane." Although I love thrillers, I hate snakes. Yeah, me and Indiana Jones. Although the snakes in "Raiders of the Lost Ark" don't bother me that much, I can guarantee you that I would have a hard time with "Snakes On A Plane" and all its POV shots of slithering snakes. It's a family joke: "Let's drag Dad into the reptile house at the Detroit Zoo."

Friday, August 18, 2006

So You Want To Be A Super Villain

August 18, 2006Last night I was channel surfing and tripped across "So You Want To Be a Super Hero" on SciFi. Despite myself, I got hooked into it and ended up watching almost two hours of this rather silly show.

In case you don't know the premise, it's a reality show built by Stan Lee, the Duke of the Comic Book World and creator of numerous characters like Spider Man, The Hulk, X Men, etc. In this show they apparently put out a casting call for people to come in dressed as super heroes. They selected a bunch, then they put them through a series of "tests" or situations that will test their ability to be a super hero. Each section, somebody gets eliminated. The winner will be the source for a new comic book and an original made-for-SciFi-TV movie.

There has been Fat Momma, who is a fat black woman in tights wearing donuts, whose "power" I understand is she can throw five times her weight when she gets angry. There was Monkey Girl, whose power I don't know, but she looked pretty good in a bikini with bananas hanging off it. There's "Major Victory" and "Feedback" and "Lemuria" and... well, you get the idea.

The tests are all across the board and some are a little tricky. One that nailed almost everybody was they were in costume and were in a diner or maybe even the studio commisary and a waiter and waitress started flirting with them and the conversations went something like:

"What's with the outfit?"

"I'm Major Victory."

"Is this like for a reality TV show or something?"

"Yeah."

"So what's your real name?"

"John Doe."

Ah-ha! The test was whether they would give out their secret identity, and only two of them didn't (Fat Momma and Feedback).

The one that got me hooked into the show was they had to don one of those working-with-attack-dogs suits, jump into a backyard where there were two trained attack German shepherds and make it to the door of the house. The word to call off the dogs was "uncle." They were timed. This big hulking guy whose character was Dark Enforcer made it to within a foot of the door before crying uncle. I don't remember, but I think it was Cell Phone Girl who made it 4 seconds. Major Victory basically got good footing and walked straight to the door with two growing, snarling german shepherds hanging off his arms. What was mind blowing was Monkey Girl (later voted off the, uh, island), who hadn't been doing too well and was determined to make it. It took her almost 10 minutes, but she managed to crawl to the door with the two dogs dragging on her. And yes, the dogs could do that. One woman was dragged halfway across the yard. As Stan Lee said in his comments afterwards, "Monkey Girl, I've never seen anything like that before."

Anyway, my point here--yeah, I've got one--was Dark Enforcer. This guy looks like a steroid juicer. His costume was basically a pair of sunglasses, tight pants and no shirt, carrying a mongo sci-fi gun. Shaved head, razor stubble, big muscles. He apparently wasn't doing very well with most stuff, and eventually got voted out by Stan Lee.

Then, in a very satisfying twist, I thought, they show Dark Enforcer walking away, and a TV screen pops on and it's Stan Lee and he says, "Hey, Dark Enforcer. I never thought you'd make a very good super hero. But I think you'd make a GREAT super villain. What do you think? Want to get back at the remaining super heroes?"

So he makes a reappearance with a new costume (which in the cartoon version they make works very, very well). And Stan Lee says, "Super Villains are very important. In a way, they SHAPE the super hero."

And I kind of clapped a metaphorical hand to my head and thought, "Well, yeah, I know that. But..."

Y'see. I've always felt that the villain in a book (or movie or whatever) needs to be a real challenge to the hero, and should also be 3-dimensional, a person, something that you might hate, but you should understand, too. But of course, your hero is going to be shaped and affected by the type of villain. Of course...

It's like Wambaugh said, he writes novels about how crime effects cops, not just about how cops effect crimes.

Thursday, August 17, 2006

De Tour or Not De Tour, That Is The Question

August 17, 2006I'm on a "professional" writers listserv via Mystery Writers of America. Yesterday--and I wouldn't be surprised if this continued for a while--somebody mentioned that they were hoping to "break out" their new book and whether people thought book tours and book signings were worth it.

This inspired quite a bit of activity on the list by a number of writers including Rhys Bowden and PJ Parrish and David Skibbens and quite a few others.

The consensus?

Wait for it. It's coming...

Nobody knows.

PJ Parrish notes that she's been sent on a tour and she's done them herself and there doesn't seem to be any correlation between book sales and the tours.

Rhys Bowden (and I'm not sure I've got her last name right) says she's done a little bit of everything, and there are times in your career when some things seem more worthwhile.

I'm guessing it has a lot to do with who you ask. Joe Konrath, who is wrapping up a 500 bookstore mega-tour would probably argue--and does on his website--that of course it's worth it. Of course, everybody who knows Joe agrees that he's insane. I interviewed Barry Eisler a while back and he tours a lot, too, and he put it something along the lines of:

"I have a promotion schedule, not a writing schedule. I wish I did have a writing schedule. How much promotion is entirely up to each individual, but I'm confident in saying the more promotion you do the more books you sell."

I'm gearing up for the publication of THE DEVIL'S PITCHFORK on October 1, 2006. Part of that was the complete revamping of my website by Heidi Mack of Xuni.com. I'm also doing around 3000 mailings of a brochure a graphic artist friend of mine designed. It'll go primarily to bookstores and libraries. My publisher flipped for AuthorBuzz, which sends out e-mail things to a ton of people, supposedly around 100,000 total. I'm doing a contest on the website and I'll be doing an e-newsletter.

Last year I hired a publicist and did some book signings at stores. I also did library talks and a lot of Rotary Club luncheons. It was probably a big money and time waster, but it's hard to tell. It definitely sucks up the time and the energy.

Will I do that this year? I'm not planning on it, although you never know. What I do plan to do is pay a visit to most of the bookstores in my part of the state and introduce myself to the managers and make them aware of my book. If they want to do a signing or something, fine, I'll do a signing. But in my experience signings aren't amazingly useful.

I'll hopefully do some interviews. Already have one tentatively lined up for a local cable access show about local writers. I imagine the local papers will do something. Although it looks like Bouchercon and Magna are out this fall, I'll probably do something next year along the conference line. I'm expecting to travel a bit this year and I'll try to drop in on a couple bookstores in whatever area I'm in and introduce myself and sign stock if they have it.

Will it work?

Damned if I know. I keep trying different things. I've more or less decided, for now, at least, that I have more money than I have time. My wife might not agree with that, but the way my writing business has been this year, it's true. So instead of traveling, I'm using the U.S. Post Office and the Internet. Of course, that might change. Things might take off. I might get invited to talk or sign. In which case, I will.

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

A little terrorism context

An excerpt from "The One Percent Doctrine" by Ron Suskind that takes place just prior to President Bush's visit to the UN to drum up support for the war in Iraq.

"On Friday afternoon, January 10, Jami Miscik, the head of the DI walked down the hall on the seventh floor shaking with rage.

John Moseman, Tenet's chief of staff, saw her as she passed his office.

'You okay?'

'No. I'm not okay. I'm definitely not okay!'

A moment later, she'd made it to Tenet's suite.

She barely could get out the words. Stephen Hadley, Condi's second, had called from the office of 'Scooter' Libby, Cheney's chief of staff.

They wanted her down at Libby's office in the White House by 5 p.m. At issue was the last in an endless series of draft reports aobut the connection between Saddam Hussein and al Qaeda. How many drafts? Miscik couldn't remember. The pressure from the White House--and from the various intelligence divisions under the Vice President and the Secretary of Defense--had started a week after 9/11.

Cheney's office claimed to have sources. And Rumsfeld's, too. They kept throwing them at Miscik and CIA. The same information, five different ways. They'd omit that a key piece had been discounted, that the source had recanted. Sorry, our mistake. Then it would reappear, again, in a memo the next week. The CIA held firm: the meeting in Prague between Atta and the Iraqi agent didn't occur.

Miscik was no fool. She understood what was going on. It wasn't about what was true, or verifiable. It was about a defensible position, or at least one that would hold up until the troops were marching through Baghdad, welcomed as liberators.

A few days before, when she had sent the final draft over to Libby and Hadley, she told them, emphatically, This is it. There would be no more drafts, no more meetings where her analysts sat across from Hadley or Feith, or the guys in Feith's office, while the opposing team tried to slip something by them. The report was not what they wanted. She knew that. No evidence meant no evidence.

'I'm not going back there, again, George,' Miscik said. 'If I have to go back to hear their crap and rewrite this goddamn report... I'm resigning, right now.'

She fought back tears of rage.

Tenet picked up the phone to call Hadley.

'She is not coming over,' he shouted into the phone. 'We are not rewriting this fucking report one more time. It is fucking over. Do you hear me! And don't you ever fucking treat my people this way again. Ever!'

They did not rewrite the report.

And that's why, three weeks later, in making the case for war in his State of the Union address, George W. Bush was not able to say what he'd long hoped to say at such a moment: that there was a pre-9/11 connection between al Qaeda and Saddam."

* * *

Of course, he was able to keep in that Saddam had bought quantities of yellow cake uranium in Africa, which not only wasn't true, but the CIA had been over this point again and again: 1. They didn't think it happened at all. 2. Saddam already had several hundred pounds of yellow cake, so why would he want more? 3. It's just not that easy to turn that crap into something that can be used in a bomb. He also said that the high-strength aluminum tubes were suitable for nuclear weapons production, which has been rejected by the CIA as well as the UN weapons inspection teams.